


Say What I Can't

by Na_Na_niKKi



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, First fic in YEARS, How Do I Tag, Monsters are Big, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reader Is Not Chara (Undertale), Reader Is Not Frisk (Undertale), Reader has a green SOUL, Reader is AFAB - Freeform, Reader’s family doesn’t show up often, This Is Incredibly Self Indulgent, a/b/o dynamics, basically everyone will show up eventually, but we goin to the bonezone boiiii, it’ll be marked and skippable, lowkey, no beta we die like men, reader has an established family, reader has anxiety, slow updates sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:09:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26493901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Na_Na_niKKi/pseuds/Na_Na_niKKi
Summary: You fell down a hole in a mountain; though you really didn't mean to.If you knew what waited for you down there...maybe you would have leapt in sooner.You find a life of good food, bad laughs, love and maybe even a family, under a mountain of all places. But can you make them as happy as they make you?
Relationships: Alphys/Undyne (Undertale), Sans (Undertale)/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 39





	Say What I Can't

God, everything aches as you come around; The type of dull throbbing ache that settles into your bones and makes you want to curl into a ball with a hot water bottle and maybe – most-likely – never even think about getting out of bed for the rest of the day. But, you know, you know today is one of those days that you can’t meld with your bed and pretend like you’re fulfilling some sort of co-dependant relationship agreement with your pillows, lest you fall into the weekend habit of shutting down your social communications as easily you shut your blinds and sleep the days away; Today is a day full of unwanted duties that have been lobbed onto your shoulders and it’s far too late to shrug them off now. So with that small chant in mind you squash the Temptation Bug that’s singing and dancing in your mind to ‘fall back into slumber's sweet, sweet embrace’, suck in a breath to steel yourself to start a day walking around feeling like a truck hit you (you’re suddenly half contemplating calling into your nose-to-the-grindstone labour job sick when your back cracks violently as you sit yourself upright) but, for right now, you decide to focus on the pain shooting down your spin and the pounding behind your eyes and skull that thrums to the beat of your heart. You take a second to bemoan to yourself just what the hell you’d done to turn your body against you like this before finally cracking open your eyes.

Only to come up short, choking on a pained curse as the air is ripped from your lungs and replaced with cold anxiety, when you’re greeted by the sight of – not the familiar sanctity of your living space – but a jagged wall.

A jagged wall of earthy clay. 

A jagged wall of earthy clay, rocks and vibrant vines all entangled in a very not bedroom-like wall.

Slowly, oh so slowly, you trace your wary eyes up the wall until they settle on the small halo of light that loomed, unfairly not-ominously, high above. In the back of your mind you quietly note the four decrepit and flora strangled stone pillars that stretch up toward the light – sadly in vain it seems because they barely reached a quarter way there. No scaling them to get out, even if you could climb something that steep..

A strangled “oh” wheezes from your suddenly too tight throat just as the memory of how, exactly, you’d woken up here – and where here is – floats to forefront of your throbbing head.

Today was one of your nephews’ 4th birthday party, your always trying-too-hard brother – Cory – had organised the get together on the side of Mt. Ebott, with a barbecue in mind so “the little ankle-bitters could run around while us adults wined and dined”. Translation; so they could sit around on their asses and get shit-faced while you were shunted off on back-seat parenting duty for the day. Like always. The tradition of using his kids to pull his reluctant family members together for an excuse to drink and ‘justifiably’ not be a father still going strong for the 5th year in a row. You’d strongly protested the idea of using Ebott as a meetup spot to him over the phone all the way up until last night, flashing him a link to the most recent article about people – primarily children – going missing on the mountain, but he’d shrugged it off and accused you of saying he wasn't going to watch his kids. Of course you could have been snide and said that yes, he damn well wasn’t, but you knew that would just get you kicked from the venue and then subsequently guilt tripped into not being at the said venue for the next week after. And you knew that if you didn’t show up to look after the kids then no one would be. So you’d bitten your tongue – your writhing anxiety half thankful for the avoided confrontation – and did your best to talk him down to at least moving the meeting spot more towards the base, which he’d reluctantly agreed to in a huff… at the cost of it now being up to you to drive up early with most of the needed itinerary and prep the area for their arrival. Fire pit included. Hell you’d been halfway up the designated mountain path leading to the only ranger-patrolled park space Mt. Ebott had to offer, a heavy backpack full to the brim weighing down your back and another equally as large bag being pulled behind you, when a text from your brother had come through letting you know everyone had unanimously agreed that morning to switch to just taking the kids to some mini indoors amusement park instead. Of course, no one had thought to let you know until right then.

Nearly breaking down in a fit of rage-blinded tears, you’d gone to call your brother just for your phone to pick that absolutely charming timing to drop any and all signal. Letting out a strangled cry you’d simultaneously dropped the bag in your hand and thrust your phone up into the air praying for even a single bar. And when none, predictably, came you made the stupidest mistake you’d made that day; you’d wondered off the path, too distracted holding your phone up like it was a holy beacon waiting for those magic white lines to appear, so you could politely rip your brother a new one. Then the next thing you knew you had stepped out over a bottomless pit, foot clipping a root, and down you went tumbling. Into a 40 meter drop. Honestly it was as equally a shock to the system that you’d lived a fall like that, as it was that you’d fallen in the first place…

You wordlessly whine to yourself before you bury your face in your hands and take quick, deep breaths to try to stave off the inevitable panic you felt worming its way up your throat, and the liquid misery behind your eyes. Crying wouldn't do you any good but god where you not really caring right now. You sniffled thickly, not wanting to have to wipe your nose on your shirt, running a heavy palm across your teary eyes only to pause when you see something glint against the far wall out of the corner of your eye. You quickly do a double take when your realised it was your phone leaning against the wall just right so the screen reflected the sun right back into your miserably face, with a gasp you ignore your full-body ache and scramble off the thick, spongy bed of yellow flowers where you lay, over musty dirt and leaves on all fours towards your phone like a dog who had just seen his fur-parent hold out a treat just for him. 

You could call for help!

That delighted sense of relief was very quickly snuffed out and replaced with bottomless dread, however, when you see that a large chunk of your phones screen was gaping open to revel its equally battered innards. You stop crawling, sitting back on your bruised legs – which protested gruesomely to the weight – and hesitantly reach out to pluck your phone up out of the leaves. You juggled its weight in between your hands for a moment, too afraid to see the confirmation that it was dead, but you take a deep breath and shut your eyes as you pressed the home button then quietly peek.

Nothing, zippo, zilch, nada. Jack shit.

The screen was as black as the pit of panic bubbling up in your belly – again. You tapped the home button again with all the positive energy of a black-hole but not a single spark of life made itself known. And that's when you let your phone drop to the floor with a clatter, face scrunching up, and you let out the ugliest wordless sound of panic in your life. Something vaguely resembling a sob crossed with a wailing cat. You lean forward, slapping your forehead against the rough wall of the cavern and bury your face into your hand as you let the damn behind your eyes burst.

This was all Cory’s fault – something in your chest burned at that spiteful thought and you hiccup weakly. No, this was your fault, why oh why did you have to stray off the path? If you were lucky there would be someone looking for you by tonight. If you were unlucky…worst case scenario was that your family collectively agrees that you’d ghosted them – yet another too common occurrence thanks to your pitiful social anxiety – and wouldn’t realise something was wrong until… until weeks from now!

With that horrifyingly all-too-real possibility realised you just sink deeper into yourself, physically and mentally, gross sobs coming to a crescendo as you all but drowned in your own hot tears; Gods, you were stuck down here in a deep, dark, dank hole, in a mountain! A mountain that no one visited! No locals came up here, far too superstitious and chased away by the vague warnings gathered from old word-of-mouth tales that had been whispered around for so long you’d no doubt that whatever the tale was now was nothing short of the kind of result you’d get at the end of a game of Chinese Whispers played by a gaggle 8 year olds – and it was all because of that stupid myth that you couldn’t hope for any outside help short of your family filing a missing person report.

You sit in the dirt and cry for – what felt like – hours, babbling between hiccups about how “unfair” this situation was and “why was this happening to you? All you ever did was try to appease the people around you”, until you’re throat is raw and your well of tears dried to the very last drop. Even then you sit there with a few more shuddered breaths before you start to piece yourself back together. Slowly.

With an ease only achievable by years and years of necessary practice, you take a deep breath and shove all your panic, fear, and spite at your situation down. Down, down, deep down – into a tiny, but sturdy, little old box that was then swiftly shut with a lock and key – to be unpacked later whenever panicking wouldn't just make your situation worse. No use crying when the only important outcome of it would be dehydration, right? Wow, that little childlike voice in the back of your head was really not liking how you were picking now of all times to pretend you felt like the adult you legally were. You quietly shush it in retaliation.

With a thick sigh that almost gets stuck on the lump in your throat from crying, and one last sweep of a hand down your tear-sticky face, you stand with a lot more effort than anticipated. You end up having to lean heavily on the cavern wall and dig your fingers into the dirt to help yourself stay steady as you rose up slooooowly, now that the panic fuelled adrenaline has passed you could really feel just how much your body hummed from the fall. You felt like one big walking bruise, you wouldn’t be surprise if you ended up looking like one soon. The worst of it, though, comes from your right ankle; as soon as you place your weight squarely on it your leg almost instinctively buckles to keep get the pressure off and you have to catch yourself on the wall and claw into the dirt again to stop from falling flat on your face. You audibly curse your luck that out of everything that could have gotten particularly battered in your fall, it’s the one ankle that always, without fail, gets sprained.

“God, you’d think it’d be your turn by now” you hiss semi-spitefully towards your perfectly fine left foot, half in an attempt to stall looking at your right, because if it looked half as bad as it felt you sure were in for a site. “Mum says it’s your turn on the torn tendon.”

You puff out a humourless ‘ha’ at that but your poor attempt to hide your pain behind godawful meme-ing was immediately soured when you braved a peek at your hovering ankle. Even with it still tucked underneath a sock you could still tell it was swollen to hell and back and very not ready to be walked on, not even a little. You don’t think you’ve ever messed your ankle up this badly – sans the time you’d first torn a tendon and all of the right facing muscles and ligaments on this very same ankle back in Middle School – you just hope the injury wasn't bone deep. A fracture (or, god-forbid, a break) was the last thing you needed right now, stuck in a deep dark cave with no readily available medical help and only vague memories of Highschool First Aid classes to fall back on. As a test you attempt to bend your ankle and curl your toes. You’ve never been so relieved to see your foot twitch – ensuing flare of pain be damned.

Carefully you lift your foot higher, wincing when you turn it to the side and stir up a new wave of hot pain. You slip your useless hunk-of-junk phone into your pocket to free up a hand and you barely have to pull down your sock before you see the red and swollen skin that has climbed almost halfway up to your calf, and when you gingerly pull it past the painful knot centred right on your ankle you can’t help but cringe at the already gross purple-red it was turning. Seeing the extent of the damage was making the pain all the more apparent, too. Lovely.

You hesitate to pull your sock back up, propping yourself up against the wall with your left shoulder instead of continuing to dig your meaty non-claws into the dirt (which is hastily wiped off your fingers onto your brown three-quarter khakis, you’d worn them with the intention of hiking and frolicking around with kids barely in their double digits so you pay hardly a passing thought to stains. Especially since you feel sticky pollen already coating the backside). Then, you take a moment to consider the best way to move around with your ankle like it is; Shoe or no shoe?

As you think you tilt your head back stiltedly and stare out of focus up at the far out-of-reach hole you’d spiralled down. The sunlight shining through was a deep caramel shade now, meaning you had been down and out for much longer then you initially realised. You briefly wish you could at least use your phone to check the time. You hum a note low in your throat as you push that thought away before you can start blubbering over your electronic baby again, and focus back on the pros and cons of taking the shoe off your injured ankle (if only to keep your mind from going back and lingering on the fact you’re currently trapped in a cave for who knows how long how the fuck are you going to get out of here-)

Pros to taking your shoe off were fairly straight forward; less weight dragging down your sore ankle, easier to hold up off the ground, more control in your limping, and less likely to roll your ankle again (for some reason your step had a tilt to in when you wore shoes, you’re happy to blame how fucked up your ankle was initially after the incident in Middle School). And there was only one real con to taking off your shoe; no protection from anything else that could cause extra damage, like rocks or stray glass. With all the positives the pros offered, you were content to ignore the singular con and take your shoe off but, as you moved to lean down, you paused when something shiny caught your eyes again. This time, however, it wasn’t sitting on the ground waiting to be picked up.

About halfway up the sheer walls of the mountain’s ‘entrance’ something shimmered in the air, you briefly mistake it for some sort of light reflecting off mist that might have formed from the clashing temperatures of the humid outside afternoon and cool underground, but then a brighter white light ripples across the surface in waves and it makes you physically jerk in surprise. You have to catch yourself against the wall before your shoulder can slip and risk you stumbling onto your battered ankle, but this is done on reflex because you don’t risk tearing your eyes away from whatever the hell type of mirage just happened.

You stand there silently, unblinking and not even daring to breath loudly, as you watch and wait for whatever just happened to happen again. And surely enough, it does.

This time you make a high noise of surprise (The definition of “!”) instead of jumping out of your oversized runners. Now that you’ve seen it again you can’t help but think it bares a surreal resemblance to the protective charms barrier placed around Warthogs in the final battle in the Harriet Portter series (movie effects specifically of course) – if the barrier had more of a smoke-like consistency that is.

You continue to stare for a few long moments to watch the ripples appear several more times before you close your eyes and slowly tilt your head back down – what you just saw is quickly shoved into your mental box with the rest of your conundrums, knowing you can’t process something like that right now – and you look back to your swollen ankle.

“What the fuck…” you mutter low to yourself as you tip your weight back against the wall and begin the slow process of gently unlacing your shoe. “What…the…fuck? Am I dreaming…? Did I hit my head…uh- harder the I thought? Well, I am talking to myself and you know what they say about that, might be time to throw in the towel and accept that life’s handed me the coocoo for Coco Poofs award.” You huff a more genuine chuckle at your own joke this time, but it’s definitely done in self pity. “Oooooh, that was bad, even for you.”

Now that you’ve unlaced your runner enough that it was practically falling from our foot, you gently pry it off along with your sock, tuck the sock into your shoe then the shoe under your arm for safe keeping. Just because you weren't going to use it didn't mean you wanted to lose it.

Gingerly you lower your foot back down, happy to see that taking the weight off did make moving it less painful, but you still keep from putting actual weight on it as you rest it against the dirt. Now that the persistent screaming from your ankle had quieted down, you hear the rest of your body’s pains and complaints again. You were really feeling that thought about being one big bruise now. Sighing, you decide its now or never to look about before you really start to feel ouchie, keeping one hand to the wall for balance you watch your feet carefully and do a sort of shuffling hop forward-

“What is taking you so long, Fri-!”

You let out a startled shriek along with whatever the fuck sort of high-pitched spawn had just crawled out of the dirt (HELL!?!?) in front of you and narrowly escaped kissing the world goodbye from underneath your shoe. All you really glimpse is gold and a mouth full of needle-like fangs before you’re stupidly taking a stumbled step back onto your right foot and crumpling down into the dirt with another, more pained, shriek. You land hard on your ass, adding a bruised tail bone to the ever growing list of pain on your person, but you still find the focus to scramble back as far as you can from the demon… flower(???) that’s glaring daggers from at your feet.

A few moments of tense silence pass between you both as you have a sort of stare down with the glowering flower, who’s seemed to have puffed out his gold, sturdy looking petals in a display that reminds you a lot of a cranky bird. Slowly your heart stops trying to pound out of your chest, crashing down from your brief scare and all-too-common shot of fearful adrenaline that leaves your fingertips shaking, until you blink owlishly at the sudden revelation of what exactly it is you're seeing. 

There, two inches from your feet was a 2 foot flower… with a face…

What?

“What?” You parrot your inner dialogue down at it- they? Did flowers have defined gender? You’re head’s aching too much to recall far enough back to Science class. Either way, at the sound of your voice the flower seems to startle slightly before it’s scowl is curling into a sweet, dimpled smile. Though oddly enough, it’s petals remain puffed.

“Oh golly, I’m soooo sorry!” The flower chirps, almost making a show of moving back from your feet, leaving a trail of disturbed dirt as it goes. Even hearing it talk for second time doesn’t help you nail down if inwardly labelling it...well, ‘it’ is going to make you feel horribly guilty later. The flower continues to talk. “You’re new here, huh? Gee this must be all so confusing to you! I guess I’ll have to forgive you for almost stepping on little ol’ me then!”

The flower was speaking in a light and chipper tune with such a welcoming smile you couldn’t help but let your nerves relax a little – though you were still half convinced this was all just a dying fever dream you were having at the bottom of a lot less scenic cave as you probably bled out – but there was a gleam in it’s beady little eyes as they watched you shakily climbed to your feet – using the pillar behind you as support so you wouldn’t hurt your poor ankle again – that sent anxiety crawling beneath your skin. You’d seen the same brand of plastic pleasantry from the people around you enough times that picking it out from expressions wasn’t difficult anymore, but not as nuanced and accurate when dealing with an unfamiliar face. And a flower’s face was as unfamiliar as it got. But for all you know the flower had to put on a bit of an act because it was still a little peeved that you’d almost mulched it face moments before, which you couldn’t blame it for really. You’d be whirling for a while, too, if a prospective giant had almost snuffed you out under it’s boot. So, in the end, your anxious guilt outweighs your anxious paranoia and you decidedly give the poor little thing the benefit of the doubt.

With your eyes dawdling on the dirt between you two you respond; “Yeah-” you pause to awkwardly clear your throat when your voice cracks again. “Um… I’m sorry about that- almost stepping on you I mean! That would have…sucked, I’ll – uh – keep an eye out for you, now that I know you’re around? Or-” You’re eyes snap up to actually meet the flower’s when you’re struck with a though, “anyone else like you! Are there other flower people down here? Did you guys build these?” You pat the stone pillar that’s surprisingly sturdy beneath your fingers despite how old it looks. “Oh my god, do you guys have a whole civilisation down here? Like a hidden mole people society but flowers? Oh my god that flower bed I landed on – that wasn’t like your guys’ cemetery or something was it!? Oh my god I desecrated sacred flower people graves-”

“Stars, would you just SHUT UP!”

Proverbial foot meets mouth when the flower shrieks in frustration, shutting you up instantaneously and making you realise just how much of a social ass you were making of yourself right then. You flush hotly in embarrassment and wish, for not the first time, that you could retract into yourself like a turtle and just hide. (If you just had a penny for every time you found yourself in a social situation like this… minus the talking flower of course.)

“Okay, good.” The flower huffed, irritating melting off them back into the perfectly pleasant grin they had before. “Let’s start again, properly this time, shall we? Howdy! My name is Flowey! Flowey the Flower; and gee you sure are confused, huh? You’re new here. Have no idea where you are, or how things work here, huh?” Flowey’s head tilted playfully but there was a sudden, more dangerous, glint in their eyes as their grin curled high at the edges, “Guess I’ll have to show you how things works around here…”

You barely had time to lean away before a sharp tug from deep within your ribs yanked you forward; once, twice – until, with a sharp _pop_ , something burning came  
free. You were suddenly hallow and cold, feeling emptier then you ever had before, but you barely noticed too distracted by the blinding light that floated freely in front of your eyes; you couldn't tear your eyes away. The golden flowers at your side paled, the earth grew ashen dark, and all the plants wrapped around the pillars suddenly looked sickly; It was like all the colours in the world bleed away, pulling your eyes to the crystalline cartoon-shaped heart that glowed and sparkled a soft light green, humming a tinkling song – like bells. It was like a black hole sucking in any and all light and colour. Stuttering out a breath, your hands were pulled towards it, almost magnified by the aura that rolled off little heart; it was small enough to hold in your palm. You wanted to cradle it, protect it, keep it far away from everything wrong in the-

“You see that heart? That’s that’s the very culmination of your being, your _Soul_.” You jerked away from the little heart, embarrassed you’d so easily forgotten Flowey was here. Flowey didn’t seem too perturbed by that though, they seemed to be just as drawn in by the little heart – your Soul – as you’d just been, voice distant as they spoke. “Aww, it’s such a weak little thing… not a speck of Determination! Hehehe, but don’t worry, it’ll grow stronger if it just gains a little LV – short for LOVE, of course!”

Something about the way they almost leered at your Soul - an indistinguishable hunger beneath the green reflecting off their beady, hallow eyes - made you want to curl around the suddenly all-too-fragile feeling heart and tuck it right back where it came from. You were really feeling much too vulnerable for your liking. “I like my S-Soul the way it is, thanks! If you could just....put it back?”

Flowey still didn’t even blink their eyes away from your Soul as they giggled and rocked back and forth on their stem. The low sound of rustling dirt echoed around the cavern, like someone was digging and dragging their fingers through it, eerily reminding you of riled, hissing and spitting snakes; like you’d fallen into a pit of vipers. It wasn’t any surprise that thorny vines – green and long and writhing – popping out of the earth around you made you all but jump out of your shoe with a scream. The air was heavy and static with a writhing, slimy pressure that skittered across your skin and made your Soul visibly shudder; everything about your very being was telling you this situation was wrong. Your Soul shouldn’t be out in open like this, especially around that flower. But the prickling up your spine kept you rooted, uncomfortably stuck, watching helplessly as the vines curved and reached up towards the little lone Soul. Not touching but almost caging it in. It wouldn’t even be able to float back towards the safety of your chest without risking a run in with those gnarly thorns. 

You wet your lips in a nervous habit, refusing to looking down at Flowey to keep an eye on your cornered Soul, “F-Flowey-“ you cut off with an ‘eep!’ when the thorns on the vines suddenly flickered a low glowing white and detached to float in circular cages around your Soul instead, but you quickly found you’re voice to speak louder (and hopefully more firmly). “Flowey! You’re scaring me! Please, stop!”

Flowey’s eyes flickered up to yours, squinted under the weight of a needle-fanged grin, but you weren’t entirely sure they’d even heard you as they cooed at you; “You want some LOVE, right~? Well down here, that’s shared through these harmless little Friendliness Pellets! What’s the matter friend? You don’t have to be so scared!” 

Their tone was soothing, airy and pleasant but it had the exact opposite effect than they’d wanted it seemed, sending a shiver up your spine and the hair on your arms standing on end. The tinkling of your soul changed, droned into one continuous high-pitched moan of distress and really nothing could’ve encompassed your mood more (Right, it’s your Soul, of course it’s on par with what you’re feeling. Duh.) Though you wish it hadn't, because it spelled out your want to escape to Flowey clear as day and gave them a chance to properly react.

“Uh-uh-uh.” Flowey tsked and tightened the vines that had wiped out to snap your wrists, stopping you from reaching out and snatching up your Soul to run, their petals puffed again as they yanked you up just enough that your toes barely skirted the patchy grass ad your shoulders groaned. You blamed it as a trick of the light but you could have sworn their face had distorted into a grin large enough to split their face on two, features disturbingly human-like. “What do you think you’re doing? So rude, refusing such… charitable help! Heheheh~ Though, it can’t be helped, even a pitiful little Soul like you can figure out what’s going on here, huh? Oh well! At least I still get to watch a strange little anomaly like you _squirm_.”

As Flowey spoke the thorns that spun around your Soul spun ever closer, slowly, teasingly, and this time their beady little eyes weren’t burning a hole in your Soul instead they were focused on your face with a sick sort of amusement as they saw the dawning horror there. They wanted you to be afraid, they were enjoying it. Well you weren’t going to give them any more of that satisfaction; you took a shaky breath and schooled your expression even if you couldn’t stop the culmination of your being from trembling and screaming – if you were going to die, you were going to die with _some_ dignity damnit!

You didn’t see, too focused on staring the flower down, but something in your Soul flickered to life. Beige rippling just under the surface, fuelling the light brighter. It caught Flowey’s attention though, and their smile split wider, their vines creeping closer.

“Flowey! Don’t you-”

Your bravado was short lived, though, as Flowey suddenly burst into golden flames that flickered between an almost purple. They shrieked and their vines tightened frighteningly for a moment before you were dropped you heavily onto your behind (adding a bruised tailbone to your long, long list of discomforts), and Flowey began to writhe and scream inhumanly high – like the shriek of a bird – vines curling around themselves like a defence mechanism. You scrambled back, clawing and kicking up dirt with zero care of your ankle, afraid that whatever this is was just another attack or act like before and you weren’t going to just sit there and die; but then you saw it, out of the corner of your eye. Charging from the shadows of the cavern up ahead, obviously furious and determined and _snorting fire_ , was a towering goat. In a rather impressive looking dress.

“You despicable, vile little cretin!” The goat woman (judging by her surprisingly elegant voice) spat, kicking through the dirt and leaves until she was towering over the smoking flower who writhed back and hissed at her but they didn’t attack, looking actually sort of put out. “How many times must we do this until you learn!? Shoo, begone with you and your ill-gotten ways!”

Flowey stared her down with a fowl scowl for a few, tense, moments before sparing you one last withering glance, slithering back and disappearing beneath the ground silently. If it wasn’t for the scorched earth and puffing goat-woman you’d think they’d never been at all, but that didn’t stop you staring at where he’d sunk as you tried to catch your breath and fight off your post-fright shakes. 

“Oh!” You were violently startled by the anthro-goat’s sudden exclamation, turning to her just as she turned to you looking just as startled, “Oh my dear, I am so sorry! It seems I have accidentally pulled you into an Encounter! Please forgive me, I was lost in my own anger for a moment.”

You didn’t understand, confused by her concern when just before she’d practically been a raging bull, and confused by her words. An encounter? What, was she blaming herself for what Flowey had done? You went to reassure her, despite her alien appearance she seemed pleasant enough, you didn’t want her blaming herself for something she didn’t do; you ended up shrieking and shrinking back instead, however, when she’d gestured towards your Soul but she shrank back just as quickly when you’d reacted. She held up her hands- _paws_ in a comforting gesture and pointedly took a step back even as your Soul glided away from her and bumped harmlessly against your chest, its light wavering and it hummed low. 

Her face pinching in concern, an emotion frankly odd to see on an animal’s face. “No no, do not be frightened.” She spoke softly, almost a whisper as she kept her paws up, “I promise you, I am not like him – that horrid flower – I have no interest in taking your Soul, I will not even go near. I just need to Spare- err- release you of the Encounter I have started between us so your Soul may return safely to its rightful place.”

As she spoke you wanted to stay wary of her, thinking of how Flowey himself had put on the sugary sweet act and drawn you in enough for your Soul to even be out and in danger in the first place, but it was like each word brushed against your Soul gently and without a hint of a lie. By the time she went silent and looked to you with a kind patience you’d gone lax, no longer tensed to run as far away as this cave went, and all you wanted was let her put your Soul away like she’d said. You wet your lips nervously, thinking it over briefly once more before you nodded to her shakily, giving her permission. “J-Just… don't touch it?”

She nodded, dropping her paws back down to her sides before she elegantly and very purposely picked up the hem of her long dress and bowed to you. No, not to you specifically, to your Soul. 

Just like that it was like an intangibly thread between you both snapped and some sort of hold on your Soul was gone, but still it didn’t go back. You frowned and looked from the little heart to her incredulously but all she did was smile encouragingly and gesture to you.

“You must accept my Mercy, my child, just will it back and it shall return safe and sound.”

Frowning back down you tried to ‘will’ it back. How were you supposed to do that? Could you just grab it and put it back in? Were you supposed to ask it- yourself- whatever your Soul counted as, nicely?

Apparently so; you’d thought about your Soul settling back into you slowly and you watched as it did just that, it popping back inside with much more ease than when it’d left. Your chest glowed with the faint green light of it for a moment before that dissipated too, then suddenly everything seemed to rush back into colour as you also felt everything a lot more clearly too. The fear, the anger, the relief, the pain, and all the gold and green that flooded your senses almost knocked you flat; you were glad to be already on your ass but still your head swam as you try to sort through it all, squeezing your eyes closed to deal with the emotional overload first.

“Oh, my child, is it too much? Of course, this is the first time you have been in an Encounter is it not?” You heard the goat woman crunch through the leaves towards you as she spoke gentler still, peaking your eyes open your saw her stop right in front of you before kneeling down (even then she was startlingly tall), “Oh dear, injured by the fall too. Here, please do let me help you, I promise I will do you no harm.” She lifted her paws, gesturing to cup your face but not actually touching, even then you could tell by the size of them that she could easily swaddle your face in one.

What could she do to help this? What could she do with just her hands? 

Then you remembered the fire, the fire that’d billowed from her nostrils as she'd snorted irritably, the fire that’d made Flowey scream, writhe and run away. She made that fire, would she do it to you?

As if reading your thoughts, she lowered her hands and sent you a warm smile that finally made you notice the small fangs that peaked around the edges, and the big red eyes that crinkled along with it. Not just abnormally red but with slanted pupils just like – well – a goat’s. They almost sent you recoiling back in fright but before you could the furry woman gently but firmly took your hands in her padded ones - running a thumb soothingly over the back, she watched you settle – then she spoke again. 

“I mean it, I will do you no harm.”

Her paws were warm, soft and comforting, and they made something in you relax. You suddenly wondered what it would be like to hug her, smiling involuntarily.  
“You wont hurt me?” You pressed, just to be absolutely sure, and she smiled wider and replied was absolute confidence.

“I will not, I am no novice I assure you.” She looked almost smug that this and you couldn't help but almost laugh. It was such a human moment…

“Okay,” you pulled your hands back to your lap, still smiling “do your worst, Miss Goat-” what you were saying caught up with you a bit too late and your eyes went wide as you suddenly tensed, floundering slightly to try and cover up your potential faux pas. “I mean- I’m sorry- I-I didn’t mean to offend- b-but you look so much like a goat! NOT THAT THAT’S A BAD THING! YOU’RE ACTUALLY REALLY PRETTY AND-”

The gentle woman took your face in her hands, chuckling good naturally when your rambles drifted off, smoothing a thumb on either side just firm enough to squish your cheeks. “Dear me, ‘Miss Goat’, that is a new one; a point for manners and a point for astuteness, though.” Her laughter tapered off but her warm smile remained as sudden warmth filled your cheeks. For a second you’d thought you were blushing, until the warmth seeped deeper and down into the rest of you, kneading out the aches and pains slowly. You relaxed into it, nerves melting away as well, and let out a little sigh you hadn’t noticed had been wedged in your throat nervously. It felt like the gentlest and warmest of hugs. The woman smiled wider and continued on, her paws not moving yet (quietly to noted they shimmered green now, a hue deeper then your Soul had been, but still green. Too unbothered, you resolved to ask about it later). “I do realise now I have neglected to introduce myself, do forgive me, my child. I am Toriel, an inhabitant and sole Caretaker of the Ruins where you now sit. Do not be afraid, I am here to guide you to safety as I have…done before.”

Nodding along with what she said, but not paying too much attention because you were too lost in the fuzzy feeling in your gut, you managed to pick out that her name was Toriel and the she was going to help you. Completely missing the way her smile fell and eyes drifted off to somewhere behind you. You sat in a few more minutes of silence as you self your muscles mend and relax, the bruises pale and vanish, and your ankle slowly shrink back to normal; by the time Toriel pulled her paws away your eyes had fluttered close and you were ready to fall asleep right there in the flowers, but when the comforting warmth withdrew you were wide awake almost immediately – a hollow sense of emptiness there just long enough to make you want to cry before it was gone. Toriel stood, brushing the leaves and dirt that clung to her purple silken tabard and the stray few on the lighter dress beneath it, smoothing them down briefly before she offered you a paw up. You took it gratefully, a little surprised when she yanked you up effortlessly, and happy to see your ankle didn’t hurt a bit when you tested your weight on it. You gave her a grateful smile before quickly finding your runner off in a leaf pile where it’d been dropped in your struggle with Flowey; you shoved the sock and shoe on quickly, hopping around bit, before you turned back to Toriel and smiled sheepishly when you saw her watching in amusement.

As you stepped closer, ready to ask her to lead on since you weren’t too confident going first into the dark, her smile dropped and she gave you a once over before stepping away slightly. You stopped, frowning, and feeling a little hurt at her sudden change in demeanour. Did you do something? Was it the hopping? 

“You are…an adult human, are you not? I did not realise until you stood.” Toriel was still mannered as she spoke, but you got the distinct feeling it wasn’t to be polite. Now it just felt cold...detached. When you slowly nodded her eyes almost narrowed, before she sighed and brushed her paws over her tabard again, almost chastising herself. “Kindness…. You are Kindness. Nothing but. Perhaps...”

“I- I’m sorry? I don’t understand… did I do something wrong, or…?”

Toriel sighed, running a paw down her snout slowly before giving you a tired smile, suddenly the lines and wrinkles in her face seemed so much deeper, made her so much older. “No, human, you did not. But I must ask, walk beside me as we go and do not go out of my sight, understood?”

Nodding mutely, you agreed, but you still didn't understand what happened or why shed suddenly distanced herself after being so kind. The hurt still burned in your gut and you could help but start picking apart your interaction with her; what had you done? 

Toriel gestured you forward swiftly, letting you start a few paces ahead into the darker, longer cavern that awaited, before she fell into step beside you. You noticed the space she left between you, just enough that if you decided to reach over you fingers would barley brush her flowing sleeve. There was that hurt again; but, at the least, you weren’t wallowing in a dark hole all on your own anymore. You’d get out of here yet.

Though, you swore, as you traveled into the darkness a breeze picked up behind you and gently wrapped around you. As it did, you thought you heard it whispering in your ear.

_You know you’ll only hurt them._

**Author's Note:**

> This is literally the first fic I've tried to write in 6 years - please forgive if I'm a little rusty!  
> I can guarantee it gets better from her, next chapter should cover the entirety of the RUINS. I won't be updating for a fair bit though, I'm going to write ahead to give myself some leeway. 
> 
> Please don't hesitate to comment or give me any sort of feedback! All is welcome - especially if you point out any mistakes I've made so i can correct them! 
> 
> Do come stalk me on twitter @nanana_nikki!


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